


Dear Wanderlust,

by PotatooftheLand



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Faeformers AU, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Reader-Insert, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 15:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15754482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatooftheLand/pseuds/PotatooftheLand
Summary: Collection of other fics.





	1. Orion Pax/Optimus Prime (Faeformers AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff and Angst  
>  **AU:** Faeformers
> 
> Thank you for your support!

Giggling, you dart away into the trees, festival mask still concealing your face as the sound of your friend counting done grows fainter and fainter. You were going to win hide and seek today, you were sure. Ever since you’d found your new magic hideout, you’d been dying to it off. But first, to win your bet of being unfound. You skid through the undergrowth, panting from the effort and exhilaration. Tumbling through the entrance, you nearly slam right into someone you hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, sorry!” you quickly apologise, dusting yourself off. “I didn’t think anyone came here.”

You blink, staring into the bright luminous eyes of the man-like creature in front of you. Was he also wearing a mask from the festival? But wait…no, you had heard of his kind. The Fae who lurked in the unseen places who ate the souls of lost travellers. Before panic can overtake you, he speaks.

“Me neither, actually. It’s a pretty unknown library.” He replied, a touch shyly and in that second you didn’t think he was dangerous at all. “I thought I saw someone here cycles ago and I’ve been hoping to meet them ever since.”

“Ah, well I was here the other day so it might have been me.” You explained as he nodded, smiling.

“So…do you like modern history too?” he proposed timidly, although you could sense restrained excitement in his too-bright optics.

“Um…uh yeah?”

He visibly perked up, starting to tell you about things you had never heard of, Primes, millions of years of inequality etc. Curious, you prompted him to continue his stories as he pulled books from the nearby shelves and showed you what he meant. You couldn’t read any of the script, but followed along with the pictures. It was fascinating, this world of his, and his passion was cute.

“Oh…but I’m rambling. Sorry, I guess I get ahead of myself.” He said suddenly, red tinting his cheeks as you grinned.

“Nah, its fine. It was fun listening to you, I’ve never heard anything like this before.” You admitted cheerfully as he relaxed.

“I’m Orion, what about you?”

You paused, adjusting your mask so it kept your face concealed. You had been warned about giving away true names to Fae, young as you were. A pointed silence reigned as you struggled to come up with a cool alias.

“Uhhhh…”

Quick! Something that sounds like Orion! A constellation? You didn’t know many off the top of your head! Wait—

“Sagittarius!”

He blinked slowly.

“I’m a Sagi— I mean, yeah that’s my name, Sagittarius, yup.” 

You cough awkwardly, quietly patting yourself on the back for the save. Come on, it sounded at least as whacky as his, right?

“That’s a nice name, unique. I’ve never seen you around before, are you new to Iacon?” he asked inquisitively as you stared uncertainly.

You assumed that Iacon was where he came from. He couldn’t tell that you were human? You supposed the costume and mask must have thrown him off, but something told you it was more than that. The mask itself had been passed down to you from your family, and you were starting to get an inkling that it did more than hide your face.

“Yeah I’ve sort of just been, around.” You said emphatically, gesturing vaguely but with 100% self-assurance because confidence was half the battle.

“Ah.”

You think there’s something sympathetic in his gaze, but you’re not sure because a second later, you remember that you’re supposed to be winning a bet. You wonder how you managed to lose track of time so quickly, before snapping your head around.

“Oh! I’ve got to go.” You tell him quickly, not missing the disappointment that flickers across his features. “I’ll be back tomorrow though, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all! Please do!” he responds enthusiastically, as you wave and run back through the winding woods.

~*~

Sadly, you did not manage to win your $2. Upon emerging from your hideaway and rushing home, afraid that you would be late, you were promptly spotted by your friend. No amount of convincing could persuade them that you had met a Fae in a magic library, thus you had to forgo the extra coin it seemed.

Skulking back to the woods the next day, you were met by an equally sad Orion. Said Fae seemed surprised to see you, scrambling to his feet.

“There you are! You said you would be back the next day, its been cycles.” He accused after a long pause as you parsed through his unfamiliar lingo.

“Oh, I’m sorry, something came up. I meant to say…this amount of time, not tomorrow.” You explain sheepishly as his eyes narrow. “I’m sorry.”

“You follow human timescales?”

Frantically, you try to cover up the truth, not wanting him to become hostile if your nature was revealed.

“Well, I guess we just happen to follow the same days but, it be like that sometimes.” You tell him fervently, laughing anxiously as his eyes softened.

“You don’t have to pretend.” He says quietly as you freeze.

“Lots of Fae in the lower castes want to run. I understand, I don’t think its fair how you’re treated either.” He assures you in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Oh…thank you.”

You’re not sure what else to say, but decide to go with his provided excuse. You sit down, noticing that there are two new bean bags that weren’t here the last time. It makes you feel bad to know he had obviously prepared something for your next meeting. Swiftly rummaging around your pockets, you found a piece of candy you had been saving for later.

“Want one?”

~*~

“A human device?”

“Yeah, I found it…on the ground.” You explain as he shoots you a look.

He wonders whether you take him for a fool, to think he hasn’t worked it out by now. He wonders when you’ll come out and tell him, when you’ll feel safe at his side, trust him enough with that piece of information. But he’ll wait, until you are ready.

“It’s dangerous to be out there, you should be careful.” He says as you smile at his kindness, but shake your head.

“Nah, I’m fine. Besides, let’s not worry about that, I want to show you how this works!” you reply excitedly, bouncing up beside him and snapping a photo of his startled face next to your gleeful one.

Not that you could see your expression, masked as you were.

“When I manage to get the photos developed, I’ll bring you a copy.” You promise him, wandering around the place and snapping pictures of the architecture and symbols.

“So its like a holoscreen but on paper?”

“Pretty much, sometimes its nice to have a hardcopy.” You reply absentmindedly, focused on sneaking stills of random Fae minding their own business.

So engrossed are you with cataloguing your adventures that you miss the pile of books on the ground, stumbling and tripping over. Catching yourself, you laugh off the mishap and accept Orion’s hand up. It’s then you realise that your mask has fallen in your tumble.

He hates the look of fear on face in that moment. As if you’re afraid of him.

“Hey, its okay…”

_It’s okay if you’re human. Don’t you know how much I care about you?_

~*~

You didn’t show up the next “day”, or that entire vorn.

He waits.

But you never come back.

~*~

Optimus can hardly believe it at first, seeing the colourful movie posters in the bustling street. He’s in a disguise, just a strange man staring at a stagnant advertisement. There’s two characters on it, both very familiar to him. It feels like a betrayal, this blatant commercialisation. Selling your story to some producer. He had thought your relationship was special, private and cherished and yet…

Had he just been a crytpid, some kind of freak show to you this whole time? A novel you had planned to exchange for money down the line?

It hurts. He’s wandered the human world looking for you…without a real name to ask for, just walking, hoping to glimpse your face again. He watches the trailer for hours, eyes following the performer who is a pale imitation of you. Instead of warmth and fondness, it feels like nails are digging into his spark the longer he stays. In it, he is a monster who lured you to your doom.

He can’t comprehend why you had this made…had you felt terrified by him? He adored you yet in the end…it seemed it didn’t matter. 

He has no money to pay for a ticket, and even if he had, he didn’t think his heart could take it.

When Optimus finally leaves, its without having read the news article about a hit and run. He misses how the local news embellished the details of the investigation, attributing it to some “curse” as evidenced by a well preserved box of items they had found in your room. It had been full of mysterious photos, all carefully slid into sleeves and various trinkets, gifts that had been lovingly looked after. While most agreed that it had merely been an accident, the story had been picked up, blown out of proportion until it finally made it to the big screen. A success to everyone but those it was based on.


	2. TFP Optimus Prime (Standard AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff  
>  **AU:** Standard  
>  **Tag Warnings:** NSFW-ish, self-servicing fantasies
> 
> I've split it into two chapters since there's a break in the middle of the two sections. Thank you for your support, I appreciate it!

“I’ve been analysing the spectra I obtained from running energon samples, and I’ve developed a library of potential compounds!” you said energetically, bouncing into the room with your papers in hand.

Optimus watched fondly as you presented your findings, excitedly explaining ways you might be able to reverse engineer the substance and develop a synthesis scheme. Analytical chemistry wasn’t his particular area of interest, but it suddenly became a lot more fascinating when you were the one talking about it. With you, even a lecture about watching paint dry would become inspiring so long as he could hear your passion, your bubbling enthusiasm about the topic. Yes, he knew Ratchet could likely provide him a more understandable explanation using Cybertronian terms, but it wasn’t the same. Especially since as of late, he always got an uncomfortable clenching sensation in his spark whenever he saw you two together, pouring over equations or research.

 _Jealousy, or disappointment_ , supplied the unhelpful part of his brain as he pushed such thoughts away. The last things he needed right now was any feelings of negativity towards his long-time friend, particularly over something that wasn’t his fault in any way.

You and Ratchet were just co-workers, united in the pursuit of science. He was just feeling protective given that you were so little and soft and cute…

“Optimus? Are you alright?” you asked with just the slightest concerned frown, as he lifted his gaze from your lips.

“Of course (Name).” he replied hastily, hoping that his dreamy detachment hadn’t been _that_ obvious. “I apologise.”

“It’s okay, I know this isn’t a topic most people find exactly riveting.” You allowed with a mischievous grin as he quickly shook his head.

“Of course not, (Name)! I was simply appreciating the passion you have for your work, I’ve seen many people tire of their stations in life. I’m glad to know you are not one of them.” He clarified swiftly, but he still had a guilty tint to his faceplates.

Thankfully, you mistook it for his poor lying abilities as opposed to his thirsty thoughts. Yet, something still troubled you. At first, you attributed the way he tended to stare distractedly to stress and having other issues on his mind, but after careful observation you noted that he only did it to you. Not any of the other resident humans. You’d go so far as to say he was different with his other teammates but perhaps mechs had their own customs so you couldn’t compare there.

Once, you’d offered to give him a car wash to clean off the accumulated dirt after a mission and it was like he went into screen-saver mode. He had accepted in the end, of course but his frame had been unnaturally hot the entire time no matter how much cold water you poured on him.

“Was it too weird a thing to offer?” you had asked Ratchet afterwards as you returned to your makeshift lab at the base, leaning against the railing of the catwalk next to him.

He shrugged, not looking up from his screen as he continues typing away. You think there is something like an amused glint in his eye though. In any case, it was best to just ask Optimus rather than dwell on it.

“Is there anything you want to talk about? Sometimes when we chat, you seem…adrift.” You brought up gently, still watching him with those pretty eyes, so compassionate and kind.

He couldn’t tell you how true your statement was. When you were together, he felt relaxed and at ease, home in a way that Cybertron never was. It didn’t make sense such sappiness, he couldn’t understand it himself. All he knew was how his spark sang when you laughed, how you could warm his heart with a simple smile or make his faceplates heat when you touched his plating. He was embarrassed to admit how his mind would wander, make him imagine how soft and _good_ you would feel against his lips, how perfectly you would fit against him. It surprised him, these longings, so foreign and new to him again after all these millennia.

Somewhere along the way, he had fallen hopelessly, recklessly in love with you.

But it couldn’t last, this happiness. Even if you accepted him, with all his past sins and flaws, there was still a war to be waged and you’d never be safe again if you became associated with him. Then there was the issue of lifespans. Humans lived less than a vorn and he knew, he knew it would shatter him when the time came. You would be worth it though, every second of bliss outweighing any future pain your death might bring but idealist as he was, practicality still needled at him. It simply wasn’t feasible to drag you into all the difficulties of his life. 

Still, that wasn’t enough to stop his heart from yearning, here in the safety of his fantasies he could dream. Could indulge himself in thoughts of you, beautiful and patient beneath him, fingers skimming his sensitive seams and encouraging him closer, deeper…

The sound of his own cooling fans blasting on rouse him from his reverie.

“It’s nothing, but thank you for your concern.” He quickly excuses, glancing away contritely as you reach out hesitantly.

It wouldn’t be right. He was thousands of years older than you, had stained his hands with blood and yet here you were, with nothing but guileless care for him while he lost himself to immoral, constructed fictions. Nonetheless, he didn’t pull away when you stroked his armour reassuringly, savouring how your hand warmed his plating. Maybe, you wouldn’t touch him this way if you knew what he wished he could be with you, do to you…

Some nights, when his want was particularly uncontrollable, he was ashamed to admit he imagined you there with him. In these episodes, you were always happily willing to help him, murmuring encouragingly as he slid himself inside, relishing your tight heat around him as you let him worship your body. The sensation of his servo strangling his spike was hardly comparable to your velvet, but it was enough to get him through the night. Your gaze would be tender, star-struck and your every movement loving as he intertwined your hands together. You’d moan breathlessly against his armour, soft and perfect like you were made just for him as he made you come undone again and again. 

Always, in these self-servicing fantasies you were facing each other, sharing the bliss of the moment with sweet nothings and quiet words of devotion. The aftercare was his favourite part. When you’d press plush lips against his passionately, like he was the only one you ever dreamed of. He wanted to lace his fingers through your hair but he rarely got that far. Most of the time, his optics powered on to an empty berth and a mess of transfluid on his body, spark clenching in both disillusionment and guilt.

Every night was the ‘last time’, yet somehow he couldn’t stop himself from making excuses the next day. That it was harmless, meant nothing outside of his berth room…

Would you be disgusted to know this habit of his? Disappointed that the ‘noble’ leader of the Autobots was so base in his desires? But surely you would understand, empathise with the way loneliness and craving had corroded a spark left arid of affection for thousands of years? Maybe you would pity him, and all the same he couldn’t stand it. Better remain here, safe from his treacherous heart.

“Okay, well if you need anything just let me know.” You offer, and the irony cuts him because his mind is _full_ of things you could for him… “Some people find going for a walk or drive, helps them clear their mind and destress. I can let the team know you’ve headed out if you want.”

Without thinking, he responds.

“Maybe we could go together, if you’re available.” He says and for a second he is terrified of his daring, at how he is feeding his fall into you. He’s fought countless opponents, gladiators and monsters yet none made him feel fear the way you could with the power of mere words.

But you just smile and nod, bright and warm like sunlight that makes the stars seem dim. How could distant fireballs, so cold and indifferent in their scrutiny ever contend with your vivacity? He’s struck again not for the first time at how beautiful you are, precious as diamonds. Maybe he doesn’t deserve this, but neither will he simply forgo an opportunity to be with you.

Folding into his alt-mode, he leaves a message at base as you clambered into his driver’s seat. It was always oddly intimate to have someone in his cabin, to feel them inside him. He vaguely wondered what he would feel like inside you before hastily stopping that dangerous train of thought, frame already heating with excitement and shame in equal portions. Primus, he needed help…


	3. TFP Optimus Prime 02 (Standard AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff  
>  **AU:** Standard
> 
>  **Song Used:** Bebe Rexha - Meant to Be (feat. Florida Georgia Line)

Even a stranger could have worked it out by now, and you wondered how you hadn’t come to the conclusion before. Okay, well maybe you had been mildly in denial about it but the way his fans had blasted on left you in no doubt.

Optimus was in love.

You didn’t want to be conceited, but a small part of you desperately hoped that it was you. Lost in thought, your eyes follow the dusty road rolling past outside, the endless desert an ocean around you against the sea of stars above. The hum of his engine and the indiscernible warble of muted music is all you can hear, but it’s a comfortable quiet. You let yourself sink into his seat, watching his headlights illuminate a path through the darkness. At times like this, you could almost believe that you two were alone in a slumbering world.

“Do you see those stars over there? The really bright ones? It’s my favourite constellation, we call him Orion.” You tell him fondly, voice so earnest and affectionate that for a second, Optimus imagines that you’re referring to him.

You glance at the Autobot logo on his steering wheel as his fans suddenly flick into overdrive, blowing hot air into your face. You laugh and point the vents away.

“What is it? Did I say something funny?” you prompt when he doesn’t explain his malfunctioning cooling systems.

“No, it just so happens that my name was Orion Pax before the war.” He explains sheepishly, side mirrors twitching in amusement.

The words just flow out effortlessly, weightlessly as they always do when he’s with you.

“Ah! Well, its no coincidence, you’re my favourite Cybertronian as well.” You inform him cheekily, as his spark flutters in surprise at your flattery.

 _You’re only joking,_ he hurriedly assures himself to calm the quickened pulsing in his heart. He knows you intend no malice but still laments that it is a cruel jest if untrue. On the other hand, if you truly mean what you say…

“Thank you, I feel the same way.” He ventures calmly, a stark contrast to the tentative optimism that is slowly blossoming in his heart, that he’s trying to temper.

“Is that a confession?” you reply playfully, expression giving nothing away as he chuckles.

“If you would like it to be…”

“I would.” 

You grin that brilliant smile of yours, impish but sincere as you brush your lips chastely against the emblem on his wheel. Maybe its not his face but somehow you imagine that he’s there. A part of you is still spinning, unable to believe that you may have scored with leader of the Autobots, last Prime of the Cybertronian race Optimus. Even as this elation overtakes you though, you can feel doubts surface in the back of your mind. He pulls over, tires crunching over gravel and sand as he finally stops overlooking a canyon, stone spires and far off rivers illuminated by moonlight.

It’s beautiful, romantic in a melancholy way and you can’t help but wonder aloud.

“Do you think we could work out?” you ask, voice curious and steady in the night. “I mean, you’re a Prime, the leader of your people and I’m human. I’ll be a fraction of your lifespan, does that bother you?”

Would you mean as much to him as he would to you? After all he had seen and known? Surely, he’d have had someone else before, someone more kindred than your species would ever allow—

He’d be eternal, as unchanged as these sun bleached cliffs while you aged. Soon, you’d be nothing but a brief memory, a vague dream while he would be your entire life if you stayed together. Perhaps your mind was racing too far ahead, catapulting you into a fantasy of domestic and simple bliss but you couldn’t help it. As selfish or reckless as it was, you hoped he felt strongly enough to try with you. If not now, when could you bring such a topic up? You didn’t want to be on shaky ground later.

“No, love is too valuable to squander over doubts and uncertainties of the inevitable. No one burns a gift out of fear of losing it later. Some people believe they have eons together, but have less than a year. Others spend lifetimes with together only to find that they never made each other happy. If we have anything now, it is worth it…” he said gently, mirrors tilting so that you imagined he was making eye contact.

The way his voice trailed off at the end made you think that he was perhaps searching for an answer in the stars. You were sure he was more aware than you of the considerable variables and concerns a relationship would have, how it might put you in danger from Decepticons or him under scrutiny of his peers. You glanced from the window to his dashboard, letting the melodic notes singing from the radio wash over you.

In truth he was simply surprised that you were so open, so accepting of him in this way. That after millions of years, contentment should be found on this wayward planet. It had been a long time since Optimus had let himself believe that happiness could be found in another soul. Long enough that he had considered such whimsy just an old longing of Orion’s, as distant as the namesake constellation that hung above you two now. But suddenly, with you he gets to hold a piece of the skies in his fingertips once again. You make him believe, in good and happiness and everything life has to offer. If that isn’t love, he’s not sure what is.

“Listen I think we have our omen right here!” you say suddenly, leaning over to turn up the volume on the music on his radio.

_So won't you ride with me, ride with me?_  
_See where this thing goes?_  
_If it’s meant to be, it’ll be~_

“What do you think? Want to take the chance, care to take the risk?”

_Do you even have to ask?_

“For you? Always.”


	4. Deadlock 03 (Dystopia AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Deadlock  
>  **Genre:** None  
>  **AU:** Dystopia
> 
> Thank you so much for your support! I hope you like this! We're on the slow burn train xD

Deadlock read those forms at least five times over, determined not to be screwed over by some trap you had set for him. You were being _suspiciously_ nice, showering him with trust and friendliness that was just too good to be free. Any minute now he’d find the needle in your haystack of pleasantness, the mask would fall away and reveal what he had always known. That humans were all the same in the end. But no matter how many times he rescanned the terms and conditions, they remained fair and standard. Like one any employee would receive.

Gritting his dentae, he scribbles his signature on the line before dumping the pile onto the counter.

You’re humming in the kitchen somewhere, happily preparing breakfast as he stews nearby. He feels awkward and out of place, like an intruder or a third wheel despite your invitation for him to stay. It doesn’t stop him from guzzling as much energon as he can possibly get into his systems but it does leave an uncomfortable amount of time where he is stuck at the dining table watching you eat and attempt to make small talk.

“So, what did you want to do today?” you prompted as you munched away on your food.

He shrugged impassively.

“Want to go meet the mechs who work at the club?” you suggested, that annoying smile still plastered on your face.

He tries not to focus on how your eyes are resting on him brightly, compassionately even. Instead, he turns away to glance out the window. _Don’t be foolish_ , he repeats to himself.

“No.”

As generally intolerable as humans were, he didn’t think he could put up with the useless babble of some other random Cybertronian models right now. He just wanted to stay here, and not be reminded of the fact that you probably had hundreds of other ‘rescues’ like him. The thought makes something bitter surge through his lines. To think, someone as skilled as him reduced to a mere footnote, unwanted and discarded.

“Well, its Saturday so what if we head out—“

“I said no!”

You flinch at his raised voice, as the flaring red of his optics already begins to die down. He refuses to look at you as he sits there sulking, embarrassed at the reason for his outburst. On some level, he was aware that he was afraid. That if he vacated this safe, warm house now, he would be left alone on the streets again. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised but he didn’t think he could take it. His spark was a fragile, hopeless thing that had already begun to tentatively unfurl its leaves towards your deceptive light.

He hates this weakness, but is powerless to stop it.

“I…would like to stay in for today.” He says to break the silence, as close as he’ll get to being apologetic.

“Of course.” You reply simply, tone understanding and he almost wishes you would get mad, call him out on his behaviour.

Instead, you merely finish the rest of your meal and start washing the dishes, leaving him feeling deflated, as if his anger were somehow illicit. But you were with _them_ , a creator who would sooner toss him away than treat him with a modicum of respect. Undeserved of even a drop of sympathy, he assured himself before retreating into the living room away from distracting your presence.

Unfortunately, you followed him there after your chores were finished. His finials flattened across his helm as he felt your gaze on him, but he refused to turn from his spot by the window, arms crossed. He could hear tinkering behind him as you did who knows what. The TV flicked on as he automatically began taking disinterested notes about various news events. You were singing to yourself again too, an irritating, melodic tune that he found comforting thanks to the awful programming your kind has instilled. In fact, he was forced to find the sound of your vague bustle calming, letting him know that you were still there.

By the end of the second hour, he finally deigned to turn around, boredom having won against his pride. You were refurbishing some laptops, electronics spread out in neat piles around you. Quietly, he deposited himself in your blind spot and plucked the nearest device to him, having downloaded a module in his time spent staring at the city outside. Frustratingly though, his servos weren’t equipped with the right implements, full of a combat array rather than the screw driver he needed. When he glanced over though, he noticed that you had left a spare set of tools on the ground.

Fragger.

You had wanted to enlist him as extra labour to your deluded cause. But since he was feeling generous, he decided to humour your bizarre antics. Replacing the faulty part, he proceeded to wipe the hard drive and install the requisite programs. Rinse, repeat. Outside, the sun starts its descent across the skies.

“Here.”

He looks up, greeted with the sight of you holding out a glass of hot energon. It’s a fancy drink, obviously prepared with some care if the toppings are anything to go by. He doesn’t want your pity, but you’ve made an equivalent drink for yourself so it must be tea time in (Name)’s schedule or something.

He snatches the cup, muttering a wordless thank you.

He doesn’t want your fake friendship either. But he’ll take the free drink.

By the time night has fallen, your makeshift workshop space has been reverted back to the plain old living room. Or his temporary bedroom, whatever. You’d since disappeared into an adjacent room as Deadlock entertained himself with bad soap operas.

He was waiting, determined to wake before and sleep after you, to minimise the chance of being caught out when he was vulnerable. But you refused to leave your study, despite no more typing sounds being heard through the door. After another hour, he cautiously crept over. No, he wasn’t concerned, he just wanted you to call it a day so he too could rest in peace. Peeking through a crack, he found you slumped over your keyboard dreaming away.

Typical, humans were so unreliable.

He skulked over to his own couch bed and draped his blanket over you. If you got a cold or whatever, you might still chuck him out and not like he had use for it anyway. He could lift you easily, a part of his processor piped up but he hurriedly crushed such a notion no matter how peaceful you appeared. It was your own poor planning that would lead to your back ache tomorrow, he had nothing to do with it. Shutting off the light, he left to simmer in his own tumultuous feelings.


	5. Deadlock 04 (Dystopia AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Deadlock  
>  **Genre:** None  
>  **AU:** Dystopia

“The station is not far from here.” 

“Am I not driving you to work?” he interrupted shortly, gesturing towards the main road as the two of you reached the lobby of your apartment.

“If you’d like, but only if you feel comfortable having me in your cabin.” You told him companionably, and he rolled his optics to cover his surprise that you cared about his opinion on that.

“It’d be a waste of money and energon to take public transport now.” He replied flatly, already heading towards the tarmac to transform.

You smiled gratefully, and bounced after him as he popped open the passenger door for you. Your mannerisms were sweet, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him partial to you. Ugh…

“Thanks for offering, and also for the blanket the other day.” You piped up suddenly as he merely grunted, locating the address in his systems.

He remembered this kind of routine, acting as a chauffeur. Back then he had been happy to do this, eager to please as he played their music through his speakers. He had been loyal, diligent, competent. Yet in the end, they had chosen Turmoil over him. He still recalled the relish on his rival’s face as he was abandoned on the street, shocked and betrayed. No doubt that fragger had planned to have him removed...but those humans who _allowed_ it were the true culprits, after everything he’d done for them.

His engine growled in fury at the memory, as you gave him a concerned look. He wanted to destroy them, every last one. He could feel his plasma cannons heat at the thought, now that he had enough fuel in his systems to power them to max capacity…

But now was not the time.

Nonetheless, he was glad for his anger, it served to remind him not to trust you no matter how kind you appeared. He only ferried you about out of duty and strategic planning. If he made you rely on him to get to and from work, his supply of free energon and housing would be more secure until he could exact his vengeance.

“Hey, we’re early since you drove today so want to stop by Swerve’s.” you asked to break the silence as he quickly keyed in this new destination, not without a touch of annoyance that his plotting session had been interrupted.

“If you wish.” He ground out.

“Yeah! I think it’d be good for you to meet some other Cybertronians, the owner is one of our club partners.” You encouraged and his mirrors flicked in frustration.

He didn’t reply, swallowing his irritation before filtering to the next lane. As despicable as humans were, he didn’t want to share you. Not when you provided the only haven he currently had. He’d go meet this ‘partner’ of yours, but he was also very aware that he was willing to fight for the resources you were providing him. If this mech turned out to be anything like Turmoil, he wouldn’t hesitate. Hopefully, you wouldn’t raise an objection to him blasting a hole through someone’s spark chamber.

As it turned out though, the little red and white mini-bot was a far cry from his old nemesis. While you vanished off into the backroom to collect some paperwork, he was left in the company of the bumbling scrap.

“(Name) gives all the new recruits either the chauffeur or shelf-stocker job, depending on whether they want human company or not.” Swerve gabbed away, oblivious to how Deadlock was less than receptive to his friendliness.

“Are you insinuating I enjoy the presence of humans? Because if so, you are sorely mistaken.” He snapped back, nursing the glass of energon he had been given and wishing the stranger away.

“Hm, have you told (Name) this? You could be moved to club lodging. Either way, the employees or (Name) would be keeping an eye on you during this adjustment period. Frankly, after meeting you, I can see why they chose to keep you in a quieter environment—”

“Spare me your pity.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, I just thought you’d like some insight into how this all works. They have a lot of mechs who come in off the street, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of if that’s what is bothering—“

“Shut up! In case it eludes your understanding, I am a specialised combat frame. I’m here because I _want_ to be. This job suits my function.” He snarled irately, before stalking away from the insufferable mech although not without flashing his weaponry briefly.

How pretentious, how _presumptuous_ of him. He growled, moving to lean against the door frame you had disappeared into. He crossed his arms and glared ominously at the bartender who had finally gotten the message and was slinking around behind his counter.

“Let’s go.”

You blinked upon emerging, taking in the scene of a sulking Swerve and a grouchy Deadlock.

“Ah, well I guess I’ll see you around.” You told the mini-bot apologetically as you tucked the documents away.

His finials twitched in aggravation at the tone of your voice, as if you were ashamed of his behaviour, felt the need to say sorry on his behalf. He stormed out onto the road, refusing to change into his alt-mode as you trailed after him.

“Deadlock?” you called uncertainly as his optics narrow.

It shouldn’t bother him, what you think but it does. He’d hate if you were embarrassed of him in any way, when just a moment ago you had been thankful he was giving you a lift. This was all Swerve’s fault, if he hadn’t been such an annoying hunk of junk…

“Are you alright? What happened?”

He snaps his head around when he feels your hand on his plating, warm and gentle. Your eyes are soft and worried as he scoffs at such a mawkish display. Yes, he was aware he was being a sensitive sparkling but he wanted to be special to you, he wanted you to be happy with him…

“Nothing.”

“Okay, why don’t we take a walk for a bit? Do you want to go home?” you pressed after a moment.

“No.” he interjected immediately, because then you’d probably get Swerve to drive you and he wasn’t going to be replaced, not this time.

He transformed and waited for you to get in, noticing how you hesitated. Impatiently, he revved his engine before you clambered inside.

He wasn’t made of glass, how patronising of you to treat him that way.

This time when he shut his door, he let the radio drown out any opportunities for conversation.


	6. TFP Optimus Prime 03 (Standard AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff  
>  **AU:** Standard
> 
> Thank you for your support, hope you enjoy the fic! :D

Surprisingly, everyone had taken the news of you and Optimus getting together well. His crush ( _admiration_ , he used to insist) on you had apparently been the worst kept secret around the base with comments ranging from “about time” (Ratchet) to “where’s Smokescreen? He owes me $20”. Privately, Arcee had offhandedly if not more than a little awkwardly, mentioned that she was glad you were there for him. He needed someone like you. Back then, you hadn’t replied how much you thought that the opposite was true as well.

”(Name)?”

Your gaze flicks to the door upon hearing that warm, familiar voice. You had always found his presence comforting, but at that moment you were more appreciative than usual. You did your best to keep a bubbly façade most days, conscious not to let your difficulties weigh on others so you were glad he had come. Glad that he had noticed you were hurting today.

“Optimus! How’d the project go? All done?” you asked, face lighting up immediately out of more than habit as you stood to greet him.

“Yes, Ratchet is just finalising the last part.” He replied fondly, returning your loving smile as he reached down and offered you a hand.

You plop yourself on happily and he carefully props you onto his shoulder, reveling in the sensation of your soft kisses against his plating. No matter how many times it’s been, his spark always flutters and soars under your displays of affection. As you pull away, he uses the time to study your expression, cheerful and as strong as ever yet somehow…tired. He thinks he can understand a little of that, but nonetheless, his heart aches to know that something is troubling you. 

“Is everything alright? Do you want to talk about it?” he ventures mildly as you turn back, still smiling, still layering away your pain.

“I…I’m not having a great day.” you pause, face falling and instinctively he curls his servos around you, as if he could shield your heart from any further damage. “Sometimes, I feel like I try my best but I’m still a disappointment to my family…I just want to be good enough for them for once.” You admit after a moment of hesitation.

His optics widened in surprise. You were wonderful, brilliant, energetic and compassionate, steadfast and loyal in times of difficulty, so to hear you talk about yourself so harshly almost confuses him. Couldn’t you see how incredible you were? How much you brightened other people’s day with your enthusiasm and kindness? But he supposed insecurities were insidious that way, seeping slowly into your perception unnoticeably until they made you question whether their lies were the truth.

“You are, you’ve always been more than enough, (Name). You are more than the sum of your productivity. Believe me when I say you’ve bettered the lives of those around you.” He replied soothingly, fingers stroking slow circles over your back. 

“People often expect things from us that we can’t give them then, but life is difficult enough without the weight of their assumptions. You’re worthy of respect and compassion regardless of whether you happen to meet their arbitrary standards.”

He cupped you in his warm palms, lifting you to optic-level so he could nuzzle you to his faceplate. He knew there was only so much his words could do, but he still tried to wish away your sadness. How was it in this world that the most beautiful souls were ever the ones wounded? 

“Thank you…I try to tell myself that, but it all still makes me anxious. Like I need to have been more successful in life by now, have accomplished more. At times like this I feel lost, as if I don’t really know my way in life, where I’m heading …” you admitted, grateful that he was listening. 

To be able to talk to someone without being judged was a relief, to know that he supported you unreservedly.

“Many people feel the same, worrying about the future and your family’s expectations would cause anyone stress. There is still plenty of time to accomplish what you want. Life is a journey and not all people take the same path to the end, you don’t need to have everything sorted out right now. As long as you keep going, you will make it, and I’ll be here for you every step of the way.” He assured you, setting you lightly into a blanket nest on his berth where you curled up among the piles of pillows.

“I’ll be right back.” He said quietly as you snuggled into the covers with a nod.

You resigned yourself to dozing your flare up away, late as it was. You only popped your head out of your burrito when you heard Optimus return, the smooth sound of folding armour signaling his mass displacement. The blankets shifted as he managed to sidle inside, handing you a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you…”

He snuggles close, living metal against your skin making you feel safe and warm, cherished and protected. His eyes were so full of affection and love that you found yourself smiling despite your emotional turmoil. Today was hard, but you would make it through. Things would look up, maybe not tomorrow or any other day this week but soon nonetheless. And having him here, just knowing that Optimus was next to you right now felt like a blessing. Lacing his fingers with yours, you felt him return a reassuring squeeze as you shut your eyes.

“I love you unconditionally (Name), just the way you are.” He said softly into your ear as you tightened your grip.

“…Me too.”

Optimus watched you slowly drift off, putting your glass away and tenderly caressing you close, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. It was times like this he felt unimaginably lucky just be have you next to him, to have you here. After everything, thousands of years of war and strife, you were a gift he couldn’t have ever expected he could ever find. He woke eager to hear your laugh in the morning and reluctant to part with you on nights you didn’t share a berth. You warmed his spark and softened the hard edges in life. He hoped he could do the same for you, promised himself then that he’d do everything in his power to protect your happiness.

With that thought in mind, he followed you into stasis.


	7. TFP Optimus Prime 04 (Standard AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff  
>  **AU:** Standard  
>  **Tag Warnings:** NSFW-ish

Optimus had been exceedingly gentle with you since that night, careful and supportive with his words and actions. While you appreciated his sensitivity, you wanted to show him that weren’t made of paper either. Perhaps more accurately, you wanted to have a bit of fun with him, explore a more intimate physical aspect of your relationship. But you knew that he was reserved by nature, especially about something like this. He was always so tentative with his touches, aware that his metal body could easily crush your softer flesh.

“Hello, handsome!” you called to the red and blue Peterbilt parked in front of your house.

“Hello, beautiful.” He replies as you approach, his headlight flashing warmly in response. “Ready to go?”

“Yup!” you say excitedly as he pops open the driver’s side door.

You scrambled up into his cabin where a familiar, slightly musky scent enveloped you. There was something pleasant about sitting with Optimus this way, having him around you. It was both intimate and casual at once, you couldn’t describe it. What you could describe was how it was always perfectly cool inside on sweltering desert days and warm during cold windy nights.

His dials and dashboard emit a soft blue light that you’ve come to associate with his optics, always gentle when on you. The entire interior was cozy, shaded and enclosed like a miniature room. Being inside felt personal, private and safe. The sleeper at the back only added to this effect. You wondered abruptly whether being in his alt-mode was something Optimus considered intimate, or just another part of Earth culture.

“Comfortable?”

You could hear his voice reverberate around you, deep and calming. It seemed to hum from the metal itself, as you nodded into his rear-view mirror. You assumed he could see you from there.

“Yup, you have a pretty luxurious alt-mode after all!” you told him, smiling and strapping in as he rolled out onto the asphalt.

“Is that so? I didn’t consider transport vehicles to be particularly prestigious in your society.” He said with bemusement.

“Nah, with wheels like yours? No one would be able to afford you~”

He rocks on his wheels, chuckling at your teasing. But you could tell he was either amused or pleased with this revelation, if not a little flustered. He was cute when he was like this, too modest for his own good. Glancing down, you spotted something that suddenly gave you a devious idea.

“Hey, do mind if I test something?” you asked slyly, as you could almost see him eye you semi-suspiciously, yet still with that same fondness for your antics as always.

“I suppose, I’m in control of most of my features currently though given that I’m driving. Did you want to have a go?” He offered as you shook your head.

“No thank you, not going to press any buttons, just want to sate my curiosity about a…theory if it can be called that.” You described cryptically as he whirred in agreement, clearly trusting you with whatever idea you happened to have sprouted.

It _looks_ like something that might be “sensitive” for him, and you’ve been meaning to find out if your resident mad scientist had been joking or not. You’ve not been in many manual trucks before, but it does seem disproportionately large…

You swiftly made sure you were on an open stretch of road without anything but the occasional tumbleweed to crash into. Then, cheekily, you reach down to carefully stroke the smooth leather of his shift stick before leaning down and planting a quick kiss atop the handle. For a moment, nothing happens. His mirrors tilt in confusion before you see his RPM spiking as the vehicle lurches in surprise. The radio and dash lights seemed to glow brighter quite suddenly, so you almost think that he’s blushing. It’s hard to tell on a truck, but his voice gives it all away.

“(N-name), that’s…not…” he sputters, all bashful in that adorable way of his with static lacing his speech.

“Ah, I knew it, of course Wheeljack was pulling my leg.” You replied with a laugh, sitting back in your seat with a giggle.

His mirror tilted so that you could see your own grinning reflection.

“Well…if you’re interested in— If you wanted to…” he coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly as you continue smiling, his shyness was just so _cute_.

The great leader of the Autobots, millions of years old who had faced countless foes and perils yet couldn’t ask a girl to bed.

“Have sex?” you supply playfully as the seatbelt across your body seems to tighten briefly.

“Only if you would like, I-I don’t mean to pressure you into anything…”

He felt almost guilty for propositioning you this way, he also desperately hoped that you hadn’t noticed just how hot and bothered he got whenever you rode inside him. How he struggled to keep his air conditioning cold or his windows from fogging. You were so soft, silky against his interior that his thoughts would inevitably drift to how _he_ would feel inside you, so slick and warm and perfect— He loved imagining you sliding down on him, eyes shining brightly with adoration only for him as he held you close, as you’d let him overload into you…

Some days, he could barely stand it, seeing you amble about innocently, unaware of his carnal longings.

Your voice breaks him from his horny daydreams.

“Optimus, I would love to.” You assured him gently, embracing his steering wheel as gracefully as you could.

His spark purred eagerly upon hearing your words, energon flooding his lines all the way down as he realised his fantasies could abruptly become reality soon. He didn’t think he had ever driven back to base quite as fast as he did right then.


	8. TFP Optimus Prime 05 (Standard AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Character:** Optimus  
>  **Genre:** Fluff  
>  **AU:** Standard  
>  **Tag Warnings:** NSFW-ish, mild breeding kink, xenophilia, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

“Did you get that for me?”

If Optimus could turn any redder, he would. His mass displaced form felt a little too claustrophobic for a split second as he stuttered and struggled to find words to explain why he happened to have a delivery package of white lace lingerie in his room. He had been hoping to give it to you at _some_ point to let you know he was interested in interfacing, but not like this, just unceremoniously spotted on his shelf. He had imagined that his gifting would have been much less…clumsy. But as he was quickly discovering, he was not exactly the smoothest mech at interspecies dating.

“I…uh, liked it— what I mean to say, is that I thought it might suit you…”

Your smile is saucy and teasing, and he feels his spark flutter under your heated gaze as his babbling trails off. Your closeness certainly wasn’t helping him clear his “excited” processor as he shifted awkwardly to alleviate the pressure behind his panel, not the easiest task when you were straddling his lap, so warm and soft and _tantalising_. But you’re giggling, running a hand down his arm as you press affectionate kisses against his blushing faceplate.

“I think you’ll like this too then~”

He stared, transfixed as you slowly slip out of your clothes to reveal black lingerie, thin straps that cover none of your assets and thigh high, sheer stockings. He gapes, thoughts thrown into chaos as he tries to think of something smooth to say against the backdrop of his cooling fans blasting on. But all he knows is how you make him _feel_ , blessed and enraptured, forever grateful for every twist of fate that had lead to this moment, allowed him this opportunity to worship your body.

Words couldn’t describe how badly he wanted to make this special for you, to have your first time together something to be treasured and remembered.

“What do you think?” you asked playfully, trailing those wonderfully dextrous fingers into the seams between his legs, dissipating any residual apprehension he had about being privy to have you.

You look so pretty, so _cute_ and spirited he just couldn’t feel nervous, your lively smile melted away any of his previous nervousness and he knew he could search a millennium and not find someone as perfect for him as you again. An embarrassingly loud click is the only response you get, as his spike springs free, thick and dripping transfluid from the heady tip. 

“(Name), I love you…” he whispers, and his optics are sun fire bright, sincere and utterly captivated, simply enthralled.

He caresses you gently, metal almost just skimming your spine, breasts, thighs. Then, he dips careful fingers between your thighs to brush against your lips, gentle vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You hum appreciatively, gazing at him with hooded eyes as he watches you for any signs of discomfort. But you only push yourself down harder, desperate for more friction as he caresses small circles over your tender nub.

Panting, you reach out to stroke his spike as his faceplate darkens. You trace the sensitive glowing seams along his length, squeezing slightly as his digits spasm against your clit and the slow vibrations strengthen. You massage his head harder in response, thick precum leaking out and coating your hands as you clutch his shaft tighter—

With a gasp, you feel something hard dip into you, still pulsating as his other fingers continue pressing and working you up. It feels good but you want more, and from the look in his optics you know he needs the same.

Grinning, you tilt your head in a silent question as he nods.

Slowly, easing his shaft inside smoothly, inch by inch. He’s cradling you close, supporting your bodyweight and guiding you as he murmurs quiet encouragements and words of adoration into your ear, amazed at how much you can take as you swallow him in.

“Ah—! You’re so big, Optimus. You feel so good…” you coo as he shudders beneath you, desperately keeping his hips still so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you, even as his frame heats from hearing your praise.

But you want him to lose control.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” he murmurs breathlessly as you quickly assure him you’re fine, better than fine.

You’re already wet from his previous ministrations so that despite his considerable size, you’re taking him comfortably. He seems surprised when you start grinding against him, biting his lip to quieten a whine that surely would have escaped. You’re so tight, so wonderfully warm around him… He wants to grab you but is all too aware that you’re soft, squishy and fragile but he _wants_ to— 

Instead, he carefully moves in sync with your steady rhythm, unable to tear his eyes away from how your lips stretch around up his entirety, marvelling at how _good_ you make him feel. You on the other hand, are eager and playful, bouncing on his lap enthusiastically, looking all adorable as you drink up his flushed face, his flustered words.

His tip pushes up against a cluster of nerves that has you moaning loudly, riding him faster, entrance quickly becoming slicker so that it doesn’t take long for you to approach your peak. Your quickened pace has him getting close as well, if his needy expression is anything to go by. 

You can feel his length twitching as his breath hitches, and he begins to pull out. But you buck forward, holding onto him and pressing his entire shaft back inside, looking up at him coquettishly.

“I need you to cum inside me…” you beg as his engines rev enthusiastically, as his grip tightens with barely restrained strength. 

“ _Please?_ ” you continue pleading when his hesitation is evident, and he can’t take it anymore. 

He grips your ass, pulling you down onto his weighty cock as he buries himself to the hilt, bumping against your cervix as you cry out. Every penetration from his engorged member has your expression twisting in bliss, heat pooling in his frame as he feels the urge to frag you faster, until you can’t even remember your own name. He _wants_ to spill inside you, to pump you round and full of sticky transfluid until it spills from your slit, leaks out from around his girth as he fills you again and again…

“I’m going to overload…” He warns, vocaliser laced with static as you moan in agreement, clinging to him as he drives himself in, lifting you effortlessly with each powerful thrust.

Your legs are hooked around his bulk as best you can, feeling every groove and seam on his phallus drag delightfully against your tender, inner walls with each desperate push, hitting deep and hard as you groan, back arching. He doesn’t pause now, so close to the edge and you love the feeling of him rutting and slamming his lubed thickness into you, savour the sensation of being stretched and bred—

A ridge on his drooling cock catches on your already sensitive clit with each plunge, rubbing and grinding deliciously until you’re clenching around him, body trying to swallow him in further as he growls and follows suit. The pace of his pounding quickens, hips stuttering and jerking before hot, viscous liquid is suddenly pouring into you, coating your insides with heat and stickiness. The transfluid trails down your thighs from around his spike as he keeps it all plugged up, panting and gazing at your dazed, exhausted expression. The two of you remain that way for a minute, catching your breath collapsed on one another.

Finally, he leans down, sliding out as he kisses and cuddles you to his warm chest, cooling fans blasting as he brings himself down from the high. You’re beautiful like this, he thinks, smiling up at him trustingly, bathing in the afterglow as you stroke soothing circles over his helm and snuggle close, listening to the purr of his spark. Even though you’re humming contently, satisfied and happy, he still feels a touch guilty for letting his desires get out of control the way they did.

“Was that alright, (Name)? I wasn’t too rough was I?” he asks tentatively, as you laugh, shaking your head reassuringly.

“No Optimus, you were perfect~”


End file.
